


Burnt

by Maulfan



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: M/M, Mind Control, Not-a-jerk!Loki, Tony should probably be more sensitive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 20:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maulfan/pseuds/Maulfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“I didn’t resist Stark,” he says, curt and tight, “I <em>offered</em>. At the time it felt like the most fucking-logical decision in the world. He turned me down.”</em>
</p>
<p>(Written for Avengerkink)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burnt

**Author's Note:**

> Actual Prompt:
> 
> I've seen one or two prompts asking for Clint initiating some sexual contact while still brainwashed but this is a little different:
> 
> I still want brainwashed!Clint trying to initiate a sexual relationship with Loki because he believes it to be a good idea to please his new boss that way to help him unwind. Loki, however, has standards, and among those is the rule that he doesn't sleep with someone without their consent. Because he may be crazy and trying to take over the world, but he's no rapist.
> 
> After the war is over, people naturally start talking (behind Hawkeye's back, but sometimes they don't even bother). What did Loki do to Clint, crazy bastard that he is? Did he want any sexual favours?
> 
> And while Clint isn't happy about having been manipulated, he can't help but to tell them one day that no, Loki didn't, in fact he offered himself up and was refused. Maybe there are even a few leftover Stockholmian feelings. Maybe Loki comes back someday. IDK, the prompt is long enough as it is X'D

**Burnt**

It’s Stark who says it first. Or rather, it’s Stark who says it in front of him first and Clint can almost respect him for it. It’s not like the whispers haven’t been circulating anyway. Insidious whispers and dark glances with pity or scorn which stop as soon as he enters a room.

Worse than open accusations because they cannot be confronted or denied.

“So what’d he make you do for him? Just the standard Blow up SHIELD job? Or a different sort of blow job?”

Clint’s grabbing a coffee and avoiding paperwork when the billionaire playboy approaches and he’s acutely aware that everyone can hear.

_//Flashback//_

_He has purpose. Loki, his god, his ruler must be kept happy. And right now, the pale, chiselled features of his master are hard with strain. He’s talking with Selvig about the tesseract and time and his fingers are clenched. The green eyes are a breathtaking mixture of pain and tension and madness. When he strides away, Clint follows him from the room._

_Loki doesn’t seem to notice. But then, Clint’s always been good at hiding. Clint doesn’t know what that dark god sees when he seats himself on the ground, cross-legged and staff across his knees. His face goes slack, the eyes distant and Clint knows he’s vulnerable because somehow he’s not all there._

_He notches his bow and keeps an eye out for anyone trying to take advantage of his Lord._

_He watches. And watches. Sees when the slender frame jerks and reason returns to the jade eyes alongside fear and pain. Sees the god slump forwards, forehead resting on one shaking fist. No one has approached throughout his self-imposed vigil._

_And Clint steps forwards into the light and watches as Loki’s face darkens with suspicion and clears with sudden recognition._

_“Yes, Barton?” he says, rising, and his voice is honey and emeralds at dusk._

_And Clint knows exactly what he must do to please him._

_He steps forwards, closing the distance between them, and crashes his lips against his master’s. There’s a muffled gasp, and he wants to sink deeper and deeper and offer everything and suddenly there’s coldness and Loki’s taken a swift step back._

_There’s something in his eyes Clint can’t decipher. Looking back it’s something close to regret. A faintly wistful smile curls his thin lips upwards._

_“Return to your post, Barton. I wish to be alone.”_

_That’s all. They leave for Germany the next morning._

_//End Flashback//_

In a way Clint’s grateful to Stark, if only because whatever he says now will circulate to counter the gossip-mills.

“None of you fucking business,” he says, firmly.

Stark doesn’t look convinced.

“Just saying, he seemed batshit insane. He just didn’t seem the type to reign himself in. You can’t say he was only interested in your archery skills.”

Clint’s fingers tighten on his styrofoam cup.

“Though you know, if you managed to resist him under the freaky blue-eyes thing I’m impressed,” the irritating genius says, ignoring the signs.

Suddenly Clint’s had enough.

“I didn’t resist Stark,” he says, curt and tight, “I _offered_. At the time it felt like the most fucking-logical decision in the world. He turned me down.”

“Shit. But good.” 

“Yeah,” Clint agrees, turning his back on Stark and striding away. 

He spends the rest of the day locked up in a crow’s nest alone, trying not to remember the burning coldness of thin lips against his. 


End file.
